The Professionals' Raven
by Valravn
Summary: With apologies to Edgar Allan Poe. Poem


Once upon a midnight dreary, as we watched pale-faced and weary

O'er a suspect hiding stealthily safe behind his oak front door,

As Doyle nodded, softly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

Such as raindrops gently lapping, soft against the bedroom door

Gentle raindrops softly tapping, rapping silken on the floor

But no rain fell, I was sure.

As the moon hung, softly shining, suddenly a shadow flying

Swooped down low upon the siding, landing soft outside the door

As I watched it move in closer, standing on the window closure

Preening soft black feathers, so sure I would welcome its allure

Greet and welcome the intrusion as the night upon us bore

Welcome it for evermore.

With the sound, Ray Doyle had woken, watching with distrust unbroken

As the bird, a sable token of the Devil in folklore

Walked into the chamber striding, as though welcome we're providing

Giving shelter unconfining 'gainst the wintry weather raw

Shelter 'gainst the dreary, weary, wintry wind that tore

Round the chamber evermore.

Then the Raven, gaze unblinking, met Doyle's dark blue gaze unflinching

Sharing secrets without speaking, so I fancied that I saw

Reaching out one hand in greeting, with a chip toothed grin entreating

Doyle sat still in silence waiting as the bird reached out a claw

As the big black bird in welcome reached out with a taloned claw

Perched and sat and nothing more.

Then Doyle spoke, the silence broken, "You're no bird – you are a token

Just a simple message spoken 'twould be foolish to ignore.

Tell me then your message truly, for I'm positive that surely

I could never more now rue the boring evening we'd in store

The dull and torturous evening spying on the suspect's door."

Quoth the Raven, "Nevermore".

Hearing this I came in nearer so that I could hear more clearer

Sable bird speak out more queerer than ever I had heard before

Certain that the message hidden may appear as though unbidden

Clearer far that if 'twere written large upon the bare wood floor

From a country from which shore no message ever had been borne

Far beyond the realms of lore.

Hiding my unease with practice, "Sure," I said, "the simple fact is

Raven here is quoting phrases that it heard in days of yore.

Such stray sentences lack meaning, although plainly it is seeming,

(Rather like when one is dreaming) to have answers by the score.

But surreal indeed are answers that are naught but, 'Nevermore'"

Quoth the Raven, "Are you sure?"

"Answer then, bird of ill omen, will there ever be a time when

I am certain of forgiveness when I cross the Styx's shore?

Will I be grey haired and weary, with my past as mercenary

Long forgotten and an eerie memory left of days of yore

Just an ancient soldier peaceful and at one with all nature?"

Raven, winking - "Nevermore!"

"Begone, fiend!" I cried, "And leave us! You have no fair word to cheer us

And your meaning, though obtuse, is clearly only of censure.

Warriors require Valhalla, something pure to honour valour,

Something honest and enduring about which we can be sure

Something strong and pure and perfect that forever will endure.

All you give is, 'Nevermore'".

But Doyle smiled and said, "Fair Raven, can you tell of any haven?

Any comfort, any heaven, which will be ours to treasure?

Some place warm and safe, where respite from a world of cruel gunfights,

Treason, bribery, and pure spite, which is all we've known for sure?

Is there yet love out there for us – can we win something so pure?"

Quoth the Raven, "Evermore".

Then the bird with some reluctance finally ventured forth an utterance,

Though it seemed its very countenance looked to blush from beak to claw.

"Both Ray Doyle and William Bodie have a following that wholly

Loves and worships both men solely and is blind to any flaw.

True adoration rare indeed, and most warranted for sure

Guaranteed long to endure."

"Be you demon, bird, or angel, certain seems you're no plain raven

Sent to spy on our poor game when such strong utterances you swore.

Tell us then what is your missive, what and where and when and which is

These strange persons whom you're hitched with, on whose part you do implore

With such deep profound affection on their part you do implore?"

Quoth the Raven, "Many more.

"It is sure you have no notion of the depth of my devotion,

So I passed the mystic ocean, though I'm trapped in raven form

Knowing certain that my journey, although trapped in raven body,

Though as bird alone I passed the Gates of Ivory and Horn,

Leaving far behind reality which is all I've ever known

Would be for one night alone."

At these words, the bird sighed lowly, as though heartsore, sick and lonely

As though thoughts of home were only something which she must endure.

With her great dark eyes entreating, I could see, though it was fleeting,

Signs of patent love and wanting in those big blue eyes so pure

In those lustrous orbs a-sighing with a love long to endure

Which would end – ah – Nevermore.

Doyle stroked feathers soft and sable, with hands certain, sure and able,

And the Raven, black as Bible, sighed at contact safe and sure

Wondering at the words unspoken, seeing her as now an omen

More of love's own sweetheart token than a Devil bird of lore

Now a love bird with heart broken at the thought of daybreak o'er

Which would end her brief sojourn.

Doyle in sombre silence spoke then, "Will you ever come back again?

Can we meet again some time when you escape your distant shore?"

And the silken certain ruffling of her feathers gave an inkling

Of the deepest darkest feelings hidden in the bird's own core

As she shivered, softly sighing, 'gainst the creeping light of dawn

That began to creep o'er all.

Sensing that Ray Doyle had fallen, I resigned myself to more than

Usual grumbling and moans than ever he had done before.

"Tell me then," I asked her finally, "Is there anyone who finds me

Tall, dark, handsome and beguiling, under fifty, fit and warm?"

With a wicked glint in eye the Raven simply said, "For sure

No doubt there, you can be sure."

Then the dawn broke over rooftop, and it seemed as though time did stop,

And no sign of Raven or drop of night's rainfall on the floor

Turning to Doyle then I wondered whether 'twas a dream – but stopped dead

At the sight of sable feather held in Doyle's right hand so sure

Blue-black glints lit up the feather, and it proved for once and all

Raven would return once more.


End file.
